Azkaban Insanity
by Zaelriel
Summary: What is a mind without a soul?  What is a soul without freedom?  One Shot.  AU.


A little mental diarrhea after reading a bunch of Harry Potter fics lately. I haven't read any stories from the character's point of view after suffering the mental degeneration effects that happens to inmates in Azkaban, so I thought I'd throw Harry in there to see what happens. There is no set storyline short of he was thrown in. Clues are indicated but nothing definite. I hope you enjoy.

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><p>It's cold. Cold and chilly. Cold, chilly and freezing. Why won't it get warmer? I can't stop shivering. It's as if my breath is frozen in my lungs and they are ready to burst. If they burst, do you think it'll be easier to breathe? I miss breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I chant that to myself over and over again, but it doesn't seem to work. Maybe I should use a different language. I don't know a different language, but I'm sure I could make one up if it will help. I will put that on the agenda for tomorrow. I don't know what is on the agenda today, but I'm sure its terribly important. If it wasn't so important, I could think clearly. And breath clearly. And not freeze so much. Why am I so cold?<p>

The shadows keep passing the door. I look at them and imagine they are bringing me hot chocolate. I miss chocolate. At least I think I do. I remember it was sweet, but I forget exactly what sweet tastes like. I don't choose what I eat. The little metal flap on the door chooses for me. It's not a very creative flap. I keep getting gruel and bread and some water. I don't like gruel. It's too gruel like for my taste. I think. Maybe it's just the name. Gruel sounds so unappealing. Maybe if I suggest chocolate to the flap, it might give me some.

The flap refuses to respond to my request. Perhaps it can not get chocolate. That is sad. I promise the flap that if I get the chance I will get chocolate for us both. I don't think it believes me since it has given me more gruel, bread and water this morning. Or is it night? I have no windows and the walls are rough. I think they are stone, but they don't sound like stone. I hit the wall the other day and it made no sound. I could be going deaf. Do you think if I scream, I will hear myself? Maybe I'll pretend I screamed and convince myself I can hear so I won't have to worry. That sounds like a good idea. I don't have many good ideas lately, but its probably because the flap is hoarding the chocolate. I tell the flap it is my best friend, but I don't think it believes me. I have nothing in my room to bribe it with.

I tried bribing a fat toad the other day. She claims she wasn't a toad, but I could see through her disguise. Pink sweaters do not belong on toads I told her. She wasn't happy with me, but I wasn't happy with the pink sweater so I think we are even. She kept talking to me, but I didn't bother listening. She mentioned fudge and that reminded me of chocolate. I asked her if she had any fudge with her so I could share with my door flap. She didn't like that I asked her that. I told her I didn't like that she pretended not to be a toad. What would her mother think? I miss my mom.

I remember my mom a lot, especially when the shadows pass the door. There is a thin slit in the center of the door that lets in a bit of yellow light. It's not a happy light. I feel like I am rotting when I stand in this light so I hide in the corner. The light will rot me even more quickly than the gruel will. I know it. I feel it. I feel the cold everywhere and the yellow light teases me with promises that I will be warm. But I am never warm. When the shadows pass I am saved from the cruel, yellow light, but I am so so cold. So cold.

I wish I had a blanket. I remember a red and yellow one, but I don't remember from where. It was soft. It was warm. I wish I was warm. Maybe if I imagine the blanket very hard I'll be warm again. My eyes hurt from squeezing them so tight. Maybe it will work tomorrow. I will put it on my agenda. I don't know if I have time today. Things are far too busy for me to try and fit something else in now. The spiders would hate it if I didn't talk to them.

I ask the spiders to sneak me in some chocolate, but they just hang from the upper corner of my room. I don't know why they keep hiding from me. I remember a cupboard being full of them. I hear them scuttle. Swish. Twitch. Shuffle. I think they are planing on killing me. They build big webs over my head and dangle over my mouth when I pretend to sleep. If they get too close, I hiss at them and they scamper away. They don't like it when I make snake noises. I like the snake noises. I remember that snakes are cold-blooded. I wonder if I'm a snake. I'm usually cold. It would make sense. Maybe I'll wriggle across the floor. I could turn into a snake then and leave my room. I'm sure my best friend the flap would let me pass by him. He doesn't tell me no when I ask him questions.

I asked a man in a funny hat the other day if he knew a toad. He mentioned fudge like she did. Maybe they are secretly chocolate makers and they are trying to sneak me in chocolate, but the flap is jealous and won't let them pass. I don't think the flap will be my best friend anymore. The bread he gave me this morning was moldy. Or was it this afternoon? I can't tell and the evil yellow light won't answer me when I scream at it to turn blue. I like blue. Blue is a pretty color. Or at least I think so. I remember the sky being blue and the clouds being white and the broom being brown and yellow. But the blue is gone, the white is black, the brown is broken, and the yellow is cruel. I ask the man in the funny hat if its true that the flap stole his chocolate. He didn't like my question. I told him I didn't like his hat. He didn't visit long.

The shadows don't visit long. One was kind enough to block out the harsh yellow light for a few hours last night. Or was it a couple minutes. It might have been a few seconds. I'd ask my watch if I had a watch. I'd watch the watch. It would be sneaky and lie I am sure. It would tell me it is one time when it is another. Time is not right. It twists. It twirls. It tries to tie you up in knots and leave you dangling with no direction. Only large axes and rats escape it. Well maybe not rats. It's possible. Rats are cunning. Not like snakes, but they can find holes and hide. I wish I could hide. The yellow light is glaring at me. I glare back at it. It has no manners.

I miss the moon. She was beautiful and bright. I shone in her light. She was mysterious. I think many envy her glow. I envy her freedom. But she is trapped like I am. Trapped in darkness with only yellow light to accompany us. I don't think I envy her after all. I try to convince the flap that if he gives me some chocolate I will take him to meet the moon.

My room is quiet and cold. So cold. There are times I hear noises. Howling that is neither wind nor shadow. I shiver at the sound of that howl and hide in my corner. I sometimes crawl under my cot. It has no sheets. I knew they were spying on me, so I fed them to the flap. It is how we became best friends. He sucked the sheets down quickly and I never saw them again. The flap made a loud swooshing noise. I think it sounded like a burp. I don't remember how to burp. I try and my breath freezes and my lungs want to burst. Maybe if I hit the wall hard enough they will finally pop and I can breath again.

I hum softly to myself. I am sure I heard this tune before, but I don't remember where. I change the sounds. They are no longer hums but screams and that sounds more real to me. The screams are real and the soundless walls keep them trapped. Trapped like the moon. Trapped like I am. Trapped with the sheetless cot and the scuttling spiders and the harsh, cruel yellow light. I wish I had some chocolate.

A family of matches visited me today. The bright red flames danced on there heads. It reminded me of my blanket. The bright, bright red. I ask them how they keep their fire going and they give me burning looks of hatred. I do not know why they hate me. Maybe they are afraid I will steal their secrets? So many secrets. So many. So. Many. I keep them all in my head, but some slip past my lips and although I try to grab them with my teeth, my tongue rebels. The matches are not happy at what slips. They talk of furry animals and I see a bouncing white rodent in my mind. I grin and happily imagine it. The matches burn even brighter and demand I stop smiling. I frown and look at them. They are incandescent and I am in shadow. I huddle in the shadow and plot for ways to trick the door flap into getting me some chocolate. The matches are not happy that I am now talking to the door. Are they jealous? I wish I could burn. It's so cold. Before they leave, I ask them to set me on fire like they are. They didn't like that and left quickly.

I stare at the door. It has several scratches in it. A name starting with H is gouged into the door frame. I watch it. It should be yelling at me for not studying. I don't study enough. Not enough. If I did I wouldn't be here. Or would I? I don't know. I attempt to study the door frame most intently. I will make H proud of me. Proud. Pride. Lions. Dead. I am death.

I shiver in the cold. I feel dead. I should be dead. Dark thoughts fill my mind and tell me to die. I want to die. I close my eyes and see the bright green light. I want that light. I know it would help me breath again. I shudder. I shake. I curl up in my corner and glare at the spiders waiting for me to fall asleep so they can jump in my mouth. They are probably in league with the yellow light.

A white man visited me today. I stared at the half-moons on his clothing. He is talking to me softly, but I see nothing but the moons. There are stars, but they don't matter. Just the half-moons. They don't shine much light. I miss the light. I miss the warmth. He asks me how I am. I ask him for the moon. He shakes his head at me. I want to pull his beard and whisper dark secrets into his ear. I want to empty myself of the cold and the voices. I can not move. I can not speak. The dark holds me tight. Before he leaves, he gives me some chocolate. I smile at him and happily bite off the head of the frog. It makes me think of pink sweaters. I refuse to share with the door flap. He only gives me gruel. I give him the foil card and he is content. I remember sweetness. I remember... something. It's growing colder again. The shadows have returned. I am ice.


End file.
